


Down to Earth

by opalmatrix



Category: Ogre Downstairs - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Gen, Mad Science, Magic, School, Science Experiments, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 03:04:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15810009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/pseuds/opalmatrix
Summary: Gwinny's science project gets less boring after she finds a strangely familiar little shop.





	Down to Earth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mairelon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mairelon/gifts).



> Recipient mairelon want some more about these characters. I hope this fits the bill. Thanks much to my Beta readers, [**whymzycal**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whymzycal) and [**minutia_r**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minutia_R).

The assembly hall was lined with tables, each with ten sheets of paper secured to its top with bits of sellotape. On each sheet was a description of a science project, followed by three blank lines.

"Remember," thundered Mr. Watson, who never seemed to speak at a normal volume. "Next year, you will work on developing your own experiments. For this year, select the experiment you wish to develop for the Science Fair. Up to three pupils may work together on the same project."

Gwinny was glad that her science mistress was Miss Bennett, who didn't need to be loud to get students to listen. The students milled about, forming alliances and breaking them up again from moment to moment. Gwinny ignored this: experience with four older brothers had convinced her that she preferred to work on her own whenever it was allowed.

She went from table to table, making a list of experiments that interested her the most. Natural history, animal science, plant science, chemistry, astronomy. Plants were good, she thought. They stayed where you put them.

Only a few other pupils were being so organized: Martin Parry, Nisha Patel, Kumar Shah. Gwinny nodded to them with respect as they passed each other. They were all serious rivals, the science leads of Year Seven. And all of them were lone wolves when it came to projects, if they were allowed to choose.

"Brent! What are you going to choose?"

Gwinny pressed her lips together, then turned with dignity. "I don't know yet," she said. "It's an important decision."

George Hughes nodded and beamed. "It's an important decision," he said to his best chum Brian Morris, mimicking her tone. He poked Brian in the ribs and they both laughed, long and loud and rude.

Gwinny turned away from them, head high. She wished she didn't blush when they teased her. _Using plants to determine direction_ : too easy. _The plant hormone ethylene ..._.

"Hughes, you pillock," said someone. "D'you really want Johnny Brent to paste you a good one?"

"Our Gwinny won't tell him," said George, smug. "She's far too proud."

_Not too proud,_ thought Gwinny. _Just too old to have my big brother fight my battles._ She felt extremely holy as she thought this. Ms. Guinevere Louise Brent was a modern woman who did not need to depend on any older brothers. Not even Douglas, who was at Uni reading chemistry. Doing things yourself was the way to get on. Her mother always said so. 

She went round the room twice. The second time, she looked long and hard at the experiments she'd noted down. She crossed off the ones that weren't worthy. _Yes. The flower pigments one. Good science and pretty as well._ She circled back to that table.

Two names were already written on the top lines: _George Hughes. Brian Morris_.

She stared at paper, consumed with sorrow and fury. Her experiment! It would have made such a lovely poster!

"Oooh, Queen Guinevere! Such a face you're pulling! Don't you want to work with us, then?"

She whipped around. The smug little toads! They must have been watching her, and here they were, grinning identical grins. "Looks marvelous when she's angry, doesn't she?" said Brian to George.

She felt her fists clenching. But fighting never solved anything, Uncle Jack said. He was right, usually, even when he was boring. She took a deep breath and stalked off to look at her second-best choices.

"Only 10 minutes left!" bayed Mr. Watson. Gwinny felt cold in her stomach and hot on the back of her neck. Most of the experiments had already collected names. Finally: _Soil types and effects on seedling growth._ Boring boring boring. She signed her name gloomily and took the sheet of instructions that was tucked beneath the sign-up form. Rot that George from here to Outer Mongolia!

"Hard luck, Guinevere," said Nisha. "They're such troublemakers."

"What did you choose?" asked Gwinny, trying for a steady voice.

"How light intensity changes with distance," said Nisha.

"That sounds very tough!" said Gwinny, awed.

"It is," said Nisha serenely. "Everyone will be very impressed, even Mr. Watson."

Gwinny was sure they would. If only she had been able to do the flower pigments!

The bell rang. The students shuffled into their class groups and followed their teachers back to the classrooms to gather their books for the next hour. Gwinny's next class was history. Her hands made neat notes about King John while her mind stumbled about trying to think of how to make the science fair project interesting. When the bell rang for the end of the day, she found that her last sentence was _The council was made up of 25 per cent organic material._

_Oh no._

Gwinny got on the bus in a dire state of mind indeed. She jumped when her friend Joanne nudged her. "Come on, Gwinny, you're looking a crime! Let's go to Parson's and have buns."

Gwinny dutifully followed Joanne to the bakery. Over an enormous Chelsea bun and a lemonade, she managed to make normal conversation about pop groups. Thanks to Caspar and his pop music habit, Gwinny had a reputation for knowing all about what was top of the charts. She talked Joanne into trying the Spellbinders, and they parted cordially. The instant Gwinny turned away, she remembered her science project. Gloomily, she started the slog home.

She turned the corner 10 minutes away from the house and stopped. In the space between the block of flats and the tuck shop was a little toy shop. The sign read Magicraft Ltd. 

Gwinny had frequented that tuck shop faithfully last year. All the children in Greenlea Primary did, because you didn't have to cross the main road to get there. And there had never been a toy shop in that location. She could not even figure out how there was room for one. With a growing sense of excitement, she hurried to the door.

An old-fashioned bell rang as Gwinny went in. The shop was dark and crowded with shelves of all sorts of toys. String bags full of plush animals and colorful children's play balls dangled over the head of the old man in crescent-moon-shaped spectacles who sat behind the counter. "Speak up," said the old man. "I'm closing early today."

He had a gold-embroidered skullcap on his bald head. At that moment, Gwinny was certain that she was in the toyshop where Uncle Jack had bought the chemistry sets that had changed all their lives two years ago. "I'm doing a school project," said Gwinny. "It's not a very interesting one, and I wanted to make it special. It's about growing seedlings in different types of soil."

"A chit with four older brothers," said the old man, considering. "Hmm, yes. Now I remember." He straightened up and pinned her with his sharp eyes. "No more chemistry sets. That was the lot, girl."

So this _was_ the shop where Uncle Jack had bought to chemistry sets, even though it had been on the other side of town last time, from what she recalled of Johnny's and Malcolm's descriptions. "Oh dear," said Gwinny. "Haven't you got anything else that would help?"

"Help!" said the old man. "Whatever makes you think that's my line of business? Everyone's so greedy. And lazy. Give, give, give, that's all they say."

"I'm not lazy!" said Gwinny, indignant. "I plan to work very hard on this project!"

"Work hard, and to what end? I can see you're in this for the glory, not the knowledge. And never a thought to the consequences. You're that kind."

"No, I'm not! I do want to know things! And I'll be careful."

He had a little smile now. "Do you know what consequences are? They're what happens next. Nothing ever really stops, you know."

That was an interesting idea. "Maybe by the end of the universe it does," Gwinny said.

"Planning on taking that long, are you? I imagine your teacher won't fancy that."

"Of course not," Gwinny said. "I only have 'til end of term."

The old man cackled. "Well, then! I have something in the back. But you must follow the directions, and I can't be responsible for the consequences. You young ones must learn to think things through!"

He rose from his seat and went through a door behind him. When he came back, he carried a small tin pail with a lid. A label covered with small typed letters was pasted on one side, rather crookedly. The old man placed it on the counter, and it clanked as though it were heavy for its size.

"That will be £4," he said.

That was rather a lot from Gwinny's point of view. Slowly she brought out her new red leather purse and managed to count out £4. She was left with less than a pound to her name.

Distantly, Gwinny heard the church bell toll five. "Oh! I must go," she said. She was usually home no later than 4:30. She grabbed the pail by its wire handle and gasped at how heavy it was.

The old man's eyes twinkled. It didn't make him look at all friendly. Gwinny left the shop as fast as she could, given that the pail was dragging her sideways.

Malcolm opened the door for her at the house. "I was just about to call the police," he said crossly. "It's almost suppertime, and Sally's due any minute. I don't know how you expect to watch 'Doctor in the House' if you haven't finished your homework."

"You do fuss! I only stopped for tea with Joanne."

"It's almost dark. Call home next time, will you?"

"Oh, all right." She bustled past him to the stairs, nearly hitting him with the tin pail.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Something for my science project."

Up in her room, she put the pail on her desk along with her satchel. She changed into jeans and a comfortable jersey, carefully hanging up her uniform blazer and skirt and tossing her blouse into the laundry basket. Then she sat down at the desk and turned on the reading lamp to read the label:

**GENUINE GRAINS OF PHIRAT**  
  
Accept no substitutes! Only Genuine Grains of Phirat will make your garden plants exceed normal growth by as much as 50 per cent! Fruits and vegetables will have superior flavor and be heavier and larger than those grown in ordinary, un-enhanced earth. Blossoms will be more brilliant and if scented, scent will be fuller and longer-lasting.  
  
**Mode of Use:** Cast Grains of Phirat over the plot from one to three days before you intend to plant. Water well, or cast the Grains in immediate advance of rain. The pail contains enough Grains to enhance one acre of land.  
  
**Warnings:** The Magicraft Company cannot be held responsible if Grains of Phirat get into the eyes or are ingested. The Magicraft Company cannot be held responsible for the consequences of use. Think Things Through!

"Gwinny!" shouted Johnny from downstairs. "Supper's on!"

Gwinny ran downstairs and discovered that Sally had brought home pizza. She munched contentedly through two slices of plain cheese and listened to her brothers bicker over the sausage and mushroom pie until Uncle Jack roared for quiet. Afterward there was ice cream, and then Gwinny hurried back upstairs to do her homework. It was easier than usual, so she got to watch her program after all.

The next day was Friday. Gwinny ignored George and Brian with all her might at school. At supper, which was fish pie, she asked Sally about garden space for her experiment. "I need to make four square plots, 20 centimeters to a side, and dig out three of them to 10 centimeters so I can fill them with earth from other locations."

"Oh, Guinevere! I've just got the garden the way I wanted it. I'm quite cross with your teacher for assigning you a project like that," said Sally.

"Now, Sally," said Uncle Jack. "You were just talking about pulling out those Michaelmas daisies some day and making a strawberry bed. Why can't Gwinny give you a head start on that by putting her science plots there?"

"I suppose so," said Sally. "Perhaps Mr. Buckley next door can give you some soil from his yard for one of the plots, Gwinny."

"But won't that be the same as ours, Mummy?" asked Gwinny.

Caspar looked up from his plate. "As to that, all the soil in town is pretty much the same, Gwinny. You're going to have some work getting anything different."

"Oh dear," said Gwinny. Now that she thought of it, of course most of the earth would be the same. And it would be quite a lot of work getting enough soil to fill the three plots and carrying it home.

"Don't look so tragic, young lady," said Uncle Jack. "I can drive you about, within reason. Perhaps the people who own the U Pick place where we got apples last autumn would let you have some of theirs, from the orchard. And what about your Aunt Joan's place? Two counties off should be far enough to make a difference, I should think."

He was so nice, Gwinny found it hard to think that they'd once called him the Ogre. "Thank you, Uncle Jack."

"Just make a good plan, Gwinny. I can make some phone calls for you tomorrow, if you'd like, and we can go out Sunday." said Uncle Jack. "What have we got in the way of a sweet, Sally?"

On Saturday morning, after a good breakfast of pancakes (by Malcolm) and sausages (by Caspar), Gwinny sat at her desk writing a plan:

1\. Earth from our garden  
2\. Earth from Sands Hill Orchard  
3\. Earth from Aunt Joan's in Wiltshire  
4\. Earth from ?

She chewed the end of her pen and then stopped, because she remembered what the dentist had said about getting tooth braces. She stared the pail of possibly magic Grains. Then she cautiously worked the lid off to have a look inside. Grains of Phirat turned out to be very shiny, silvery coarse sand that smelled like oceans and chemistry lab. She pressed the lid back on firmly and read the label again. Then she wrote:

I put Grains of Phirat in one of the sample plots.  
  
**Consequences**  
  
1\. Grains of Phirat don't do anything: all the bean plants look much the same, or maybe one of the others is a little better than the rest. My report only gets a good mark if I make it very neat and complete and do good drawings.  
  
2\. Grains of Phirat do what they say on the tin: It's really ob ~~li~~ vious that something is different about the soil in that plot. I get a great mark for my paper as long as it's reasonably neat.

Gwinny drew a really tall bean plant in the margin of her notebook page. Then:

**What next?**  
  
_Everyone starts asking questions._  
  
1\. I tell them about Grains of Phirat. I get a zero for my paper because I cheated.

That was a fair point, really. But hadn't she been cheated out of her experiment?

2\. I don't tell them about Grains of Phirat. Everyone gets very interested in where the soil came from.

She stared at the paper for a while longer. She remembered a photo she'd seen of a field where the farmer had turned up some Roman coins. She wrote:

**What then?**  
  
The Authorities take over the place where the soil came from and start digging it all up, trying to figure out what made the soil so good for plants.

Oh no. Sally had been cross about Gwinny's little garden plots: she'd hate having scientists digging up the yard. And what if they wanted to dig under the house? It was the same with Aunt Joan. And the orchard people wouldn't be able to grow and sell their apples anymore if scientists took over the orchard. 

Gwinny thought as hard as she could for another 10 minutes. Then she scribbled a few more notes, slammed her notebook shut, and leaped to her feet. She grabbed the Grains pail and her anorak. She ran downstairs, through the back hall, and through the kitchen to the back door.

"Where are you going, Gwinny?" asked Sally, who was reading recipes, checking the pantry, and making a shopping list.

"Out for a bike ride," said Gwinny. "I'll be back quite soon."

"By yourself? I'm glad you're finally using that bicycle, but you're not very good at it, darling."

Malcolm, who was at the kitchen table, glanced up from his science fiction novel and gave her a sharp look. Gwinny swung the Grains behind her, but she knew he'd noticed. "I'll go with her, Sally," he offered.

"Oh, thank you, Malcolm," said Sally, relieved. "Don't be out too long. It looks like it might rain."

"Good point," said Malcolm. "You don't want to get wet, do you, Gwinny?"

"I bet I can get a ride before it starts," protested Gwinny. Actually, rain would be grand, as long as she got the Grains sprinkled before it started.

Malcom sighed and closed his book. "Come on, then."

He grabbed his own anorak from the coat cupboard and walked out to the shed with Gwinny. As soon as they were out of sight of the kitchen, he stopped and said: "Come on, confess. You're up to something. You hate bicycling."

"Oh, Malcolm!" she said. "It's nothing bad, really. I've made a good plan. It's for school."

"Your science project? I know you were cross about the experiment you got."

"I found out a way to make it more interesting," she said. "There was this shop…." 

Malcolm took some convincing—he remembered the shop all too well—but she won him over in the end. They didn't really get very wet, although Sally sent them both up to change before lunch. Uncle Jack was surprised to hear that Gwinny was getting her last sample from the old rubbish tip but conceded that it might actually make for an interesting experiment, at that. He called Aunt Joan and the owners of the orchard, and then next day they went out and got very dirty and tired from digging wet, muddy earth and shoveling it into sturdy plastic rubbish bags.

The following weekend Gwinny made her garden plots, and very hard work it was, too, because she had to make them tidy enough to suit Sally. She planted her beans, marking them carefully, and was rewarded when the beans in the Grained rubbish tip earth sprouted four days before the others. They continued their precocious ways in the weeks to come, growing faster and becoming larger than the plants in the other sample plots. When they bloomed, their flowers were large, double-petalled, and a lovely deep shade of crimson. And just before the end of term, when Gwinny was putting the final touches on her report, they produced their first enormous bean pods.

On the day of the Science Fair, everyone exclaimed over the huge bean plants, and the Plant Biology judges, who were from the local agricultural college, took reams of notes. Gwinny stood proudly by her poster and her data notebook. She'd walked round the hall and knew her project was one of the best, although Nisha's and Martin's were very good too. George and Brian had made a complete wreck of theirs.

"You've done well, Gwinny," said Uncle Jack. "It's almost worth having hauled those bags of earth about."

"I'm so proud!" said Sally. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you off to uni like Douglas in a few years!"

The only problem was that she was starting to feel slightly wormy inside about the Grains. She knew she'd done a bang-up job on her data collecting and her graphs. But would it have been enough to get such a high mark if the beans from the rubbish tip plot hadn't been so spectacular? 

It didn't help that George and Brian were muttering that she must have fertilized those beans with something. What if they told someone their suspicions? Right now, everyone was just ignoring their bellyaching as sour grapes, but what if someone actually listened?

Her worries might have spoiled the summer holidays for her, but Sally and Uncle Jack had arranged a lovely trip to France. Only Malcolm and Douglas had ever been abroad, and that years ago. Everything was so new and so interesting that Gwinny managed to forget about the magically enhanced beans for days at a time.

Then, one morning just after the autumn term started, Malcolm read her a newspaper article about some research that was being done at the old rubbish tip, inspired by a student science fair experiment. The scientists were mystified because their experimental gardens were just as amazing as Gwinny's, but they couldn't find any reason why. Gwinny felt half her burden drop off her shoulders. "That's such good news!"

Malcom folded the paper carefully and handed to her. "I guess you'll want to save this. Is that what you wanted to happen?"

"That's part of what I wanted to happen," Gwinny said.

"Well, now I feel a little less bad about abetting your plot. Can't you tell me the rest?"

"Not yet. I want to see what else happens."

"I wonder if they'll find any scientific reason for the plants to grow that way," said Malcolm. But then it was time to leave for school, and Malcolm let the matter lie.

Finally, the next spring, a lot of construction equipment turned up at the site of the old rubbish tip. A new park was going to be built there, with a playground and gardens. The papers had a lot to say about it, but to Gwinny's annoyance, no one mentioned the Greenway Park Grammar schoolgirl who'd started the whole thing.

"They might have at least mentioned me!" said Gwinny to Malcolm.

"Still, you look like the cat that got the cream," observed Malcolm. "Is this what you wanted to happen?"

She beamed at him, her grievance all but forgotten. "It's even better! I just hoped that they'd dig up the rubbish tip and use it for something useful, but a park? That's _brilliant!_ "

Malcom stared at her and then smiled admiringly, so that Gwinny found herself feeling big and warm. "That was a really clever idea, Guinevere!"

And that was all, really, except that her other brothers heard about the park and had to make sure she did too. She was glad she hadn't let them all in on her plan: they were no good at secrets.

"They say there's a contest for naming the park," said Caspar. "You ought to go in for it, Gwinny."

"Magic Bean Park," said Malcolm.

Gwinny giggled. "Magicraft Park," she said, carelessly.

Johnny, Caspar, and Douglas (who was home for break) all turned to stare at her. Malcolm cast his eyes up and sighed.

"What about Magicraft?" said Johnny, suspicious.

"Wasn't that the name on those chemistry sets?" Gwinny asked, as innocently as she could while scolding herself inside. _I guess I'm not as good at secrets as I thought!_

"Well, yes," said Douglas. "But I don't think that will make much of an impression on the committee, Gwinny."

She pouted with all her might. "It's too bad! I think it would be a lovely name."

Indeed, it might have. But in fact, that was the last any of them ever heard of Magicraft.


End file.
